


i'll never let them hurt you (i promise)

by ratherbeyouthful



Category: Fablehaven Series - Brandon Mull
Genre: (is that their ship name? it is now), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Appreciate Dale, Dalegatoa, Dissociation, Exhaustion, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbeyouthful/pseuds/ratherbeyouthful
Summary: Dale Burgess is tired. It seems like that will never end.
Relationships: Dale Burgess/Tanugatoa "Tanu" Dufu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	i'll never let them hurt you (i promise)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sorry_im_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorry_im_trash/gifts).



> I got here and realized there were only two other works in the Dale/Tanu tag...so I wrote my own. I needed some dalegatoa (is that their ship name? it is now) content and here you have 14 pages of pure self-indulgent recovery fic. Because Dale went through some shit and his reward was to get left behind over and over. And as someone who isn't special themselves, I needed him to get a bit more page-time than he did. 
> 
> So here you have it: another thing motivated purely by spite and a drive to fix the things I can't stand. 
> 
> Work title from "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" by My Chemical Romance. Because I'm trash, that's why. You're welcome.

Damp, moist air pervades the walls of Dale’s cell. Slaggo prods him in the back as he opens the door, pushing him through with little resistance. Dale stumbles, catches his balance on the wall. He winces immediately. Grime from the wall now surely coats his hand. 

Behind him, Tanu steps in. The other man is still controlled by Vanessa from when she revealed her identity as a narcoblix and successfully took over the preserve. Kendra managed to get away, but she’s alone in the woods of Fablehaven with no assistance. Hugo and Mendigo may be able to protect her and ensure some form of survival, but it surely won’t last long. 

Tanu glares at him, chin tilted in a haughty way. It’s odd, seeing Vanessa’s graceful movements in another body. What looks natural on her appears strange on Tanu’s large form, and every subtle gesture becomes highlighted through the abnormality. Vanessa doesn’t look haughty when she looks at him. Tanu does, and Dale loathes it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, knowing it’s the same line from every book, not sure how to convince her that what she’s doing is wrong. She already knows, but clearly her means will justify the end. 

“It’s clear why I liked your brother better,” Tanu says, and the words hurt more than they should. “Don’t beg. You’re a Burgess.” People have expected so much of him because of that name. He’s beginning to hate it, after all these years. 

“My brother is a good man,” Dale tells Tanu, knowing that he’s just wasting air. “He’ll be sad to know you turned out like this.” 

Tanu stares at him inscrutably, Vanessa’s trademark calculating expression at odds with his kind face. “He won’t ever know,” Tanu says. “It’s unlikely you’ll know either.”

“What do you mean?” Dale asks, chest hitching. She  _ can’t _ intend to kill him. That would violate any protections she still possesses under the treaty. He shivers despite his best intentions, the dungeon cell cold. He’s still dressed in the clothes he slept in. Flannel pants and a thin t-shirt will do nothing good for him against the chill of the air. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get sick. She can’t intend to kill him here, not like this. “Why’d you use Tanu to bring us down here?” Surely she won’t use Tanu to do it. 

“You won’t hurt him,” Tanu says, but it’s Vanessa through the words. “Slaggo, lock the cell door. Tanu should come to in a few moments. I’ll be back.” The goblin does as told, grumbling under his breath. He shuffles away through the darkness, disappearing from view a few paces away from the cell door. 

Dale turns his attention back to Tanu in time to see him crumple. He gets his hands on Tanu’s shoulder and manages to brace the man’s head on his knees. It sounds like a painful landing, but it’s the best he can manage. Slowly, slowly, he lowers the rest of Tanu to the ground, heart jackhammering through his chest. The afterwaves of the shock catch a ride through his bloodstream, and set him shaking again. A grown man, afraid in the dark. 

He lets Tanu lay there and retreats to the other side of the cell, waiting for the panic to die down. He’s not sure he can do this. Does Warren face this all the time? It’s everything and nothing like being turned into the lead statue last summer. He was present in his mind but unable to move. Here, he’s capable of movement but not of action. He is entirely himself but going mad out of his mind. 

Did the walls really have to be so small? The space pinches at his nerves. He can’t catch hold of his breath. He’s gotten alongside the longest wall, tucked his thighs against his chest, and tried to make as much room as possible. His hands won’t stop shaking. He can’t make them. He’s quivering. 

He sucks in a gasping breath, hoping the cell walls and door are sound-proof, and the releases in a shudder exhale. Another, much quicker, and then yet another. Despite the lungful he hauls in, he’s breathing nothing. He’s been like this before, once or twice after last summer’s events, locked in his room with his arms over his head and neck. Devoid of air. Drowning without the water. Drowning in terror. No, no, no, no,  _ no— _

“Dale?” 

He shakes his head at the sound, accidentally releasing his breath prematurely. He heaves in another gasp to compensate, shuddering. It’s Tanu, just Tanu. Dale can barely hear him moving over the racing of his heart. He wonders if Tanu can hear it too. 

Tanu’s moved next to him, he can feel it, but he’s not touching him, a good foot or two away. He wheezes, breathing hitching, and Tanu inches infinitesimally closer. 

“Dale, are you injured?” He manages to shake his head to the question. There’s a little light, so they can see movement in the shadows. “Did Vanessa give you anything?” Again, another shake of his head. He can’t breathe enough to get his responses under control. He just needs to wait it out, and then find some way to crawl from the embarrassment of having Tanu witness this. 

“Alright,” Tanu says. “Can you speak?” 

“A little,” Dale gasps out, surprised at himself. He hasn’t tried. How can he? He can barely breathe. Can’t even see straight. 

“Good. That’s really good, Dale. I need you to stay with me, alright? It’s hard to breathe, but it’ll pass. Take a deep breath and hold it for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, okay?” He does, and Dale tries to focus on it. His lungs fall to pieces after a single second, and his heart sets a faster pace immediately. 

“Can’t,” he chokes out. It’s never been like this before. 

“I’m right here, alright?” Tanu says, voice calm, and Dale latches onto it like a sailor to a piece of wreckage. “This will pass. You’re going to be alright.” He does the slow breathing again, and Dale manages to do it this time. “Good, perfect. A couple more times for me. That’s it.” Dale closes his eyes, lets his mind focus on that singular action, in and out slowly, controlled, until his heart is settling down and nestling back into his chest. 

They sit in silence for several moments, Tanu still breathing deeply, Dale imitating him. His breaths still come shudderingly, in slow inhales and quick exhales. Tanu shifts by his side, every movement audibly thought out. 

“Any better?” Tanu asks. He sounds so patient that it hurts. 

“Yes,” Dale says, and even though the cell is tiny, he feels small. He is not a small man, built with broad shoulders and long limbs. But right now he feels as if he takes up no room at all. “I can breathe.” 

“Are you grounded?” Tanu asks, and Dale takes a moment to consider. 

“I will be.” That’s all he can really say. It’s never been this urgent to come back before. He doesn’t feel like floating off in the way he normally does. Half of his brain wants to curl in on itself and disappear, but the other half takes comfort in the presence of Tanu, and remains where it is. 

“What happened?” Tanu asks. “The last thing I remember is Vanessa’s blow dart in my thigh.” 

Dale swallows at the memory of Tanu crashing to the ground, Kendra grabbing his bag and sprinting out of the room. “Kendra escaped. The rest of us are jailed in the basement. Vanessa used you to bring us down here, and promised me she’d return.” Three sentences to explain the ruin that Fablehaven has fallen into. 

Tanu takes this information in grave silence. “Well, we must hope that brighter things await,” he says eventually. Dale nods, stretching out his legs, crossing his arms. The embarrassment has begun to creep over his face at the thought of the recent events. He has not been vulnerable like this in a long time. 

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “For being patient with me.”

He can feel Tanu regarding him curiously. “No one else has been?” 

“No one knows,” Dale admits. 

Tanu says nothing for a little while, but it does not feel like a judgemental silence. “How often have you had panic attacks?” 

So that’s what they are. Interesting. He’s not sure how he could have gotten this far, doing what he does, and not know. 

“They began last summer, and happen rarely,” Dale offers. “I’ve usually been able to get through them on my own.” 

They fall into silence for another moment. Dale shifts, trying to get comfortable. He’s exhausted, now that the terror has passed. His head begins to fall forward, his eyes to close. He shakes himself awake. 

“Everything alright?” Tanu asks him, and Dale wishes he could see his face. See it clearly, not just the dim outline he’s given. The other man has a reassuring air about him, a nice smile. It makes him feel at ease. 

“You can’t let me fall asleep,” he says. “Don’t let me hurt anyone. I can’t let her do that.” He’s jumbled. He’s scattered all over the place and each piece of him has picked a goal to defend. He wants to retreat into slumber to put himself together. 

“Dale,” Tanu says, but the other man won’t let him finish. 

“I’m so tired,” he says quietly. “She knows I won’t hurt you. I’m afraid she’ll have me do it anyway.” He swallows, continues on. “You mustn’t let me hurt you.”

“It wouldn’t be you,” Tanu tells him. 

“It doesn’t matter.” There are things he will not be able to live with. If he hurts someone he cares about, he’s crossed a line he won’t return from. 

“It might be safest to sleep now,” Tanu says gently. “When she’s just brought us down here and plans on waiting for something. To wait until she might have use of us.” 

“I don’t want to risk it,” Dale says, voice made of adamant. He will accept no compromises. “Don’t let me fall asleep.” 

“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” Tanu tells him. His voice sounds sad, sorrowful. “Rest, if you can.” It’s easier said than done. 

~

In the end, it’s all in vain. Dale wakes from a fitful slumber to find Tanu gone. He doesn’t return, and he hears news of Tanu’s fate from Slaggo while being served a meal. He has another person to mourn. 

~

He’s in the cell for hours before Tanu comes to free him, Coulter in tow. Dale nearly gasps at Tanu’s appearance: the brown gone from his skin, replaced with pasty white identical to Warren’s. It was jarring enough to see Coulter like this earlier. But on Tanu, it’s horrific. 

But Tanu is not catatonic, nor mute. He has the keys to the cell, and opens the door quickly. Dale’s out before he can even think about it, hand turning over Tanu’s arm, moving away just as quickly. Coulter flashes him a quick look of concern. Has word gotten around of his barely-controlled panic? Tanu wouldn’t tell, not like that. 

“You—restored, to yourself?” Dale asks. Tanu answers in affirmative. “Then—Warren, he must…?” The words are dying in his throat. He didn’t have to see Tanu catatonic. He may have been lucky. He wishes it was him instead. 

“We haven’t time,” Tanu says, expression pitying. “The Inverted Tower beckons. We must stop Vanessa.” 

~

Everything goes well until the hobgoblin. They avoid the traps inside the tower, and the three of them advance quickly. Dale stands back quietly as Coulter and Tanu debate between which magical creature they believe they could best. He’s the muscle, an additional insurance policy, a buffer to whatever the tower has in store for them. He’ll take whatever they decide to face. 

Coulter and Tanu pause their conversation, considering. “What do you think, Dale?” Tanu asks, and Dale looks askance at him. He scans the walls briefly, takes another mental stock of the figures. 

“Not the dwarf or the woman,” he says. It’s much a repeat of the iterations of conversation they’ve undergone. Blank spaces in the walls agree. “Others have thought the same as well.” 

“I agree,” Coulter says. “Hobgoblin, then?” 

“Yes,” Tanu says, and then goes to tap the portrait. He turns sideways as he does, and catches the creature as it appears to his left. He ducks under a strike, and both Coulter and Dale rush to join him. 

The battle goes fierce but takes much time. Dale tries to temper the adrenaline threatening to run through his veins, knowing he needs to remain levelheaded if he wants to be successful. Duck. Strike. A parry, and then a quick lunge to protect Coulter’s back. The hobgoblin skitters behind them, emitting a fierce war cry. 

Another strike, this one catching skin across his arm. The weapon leaves a streak of blood behind. Deep, but not serious. Dale can’t suppress a panicked exhalation, but rolls away from the hobgoblin. Coulter and Tanu circle from behind it, preparing to strike. Dale has two walls at his back, and a security that the creature cannot circle him. However, neither can he move from the corner. He realizes his unfortunate position as soon as the hobgoblin lunges forward, out of their reach. 

One block, another, and then he’s lost. Pain sears through his legs, both of them, at the heels and then the backs of his calves. He crumples, lunging out with his weapon, landing no blow. Everything is hazy, and he’s aware that someone groans, long and thin. He hopes it isn’t Tanu, and then feels a wave of shame battened away by the rushing pain. 

There are hands on his arms, turning him over, and he withholds a shriek. Things are getting a little easier to see. He’s not sure when he lost track of his friends, but Coulter hovers above him, face terrifying for a moment because of the absence of color. There’s a touch on his legs, and he can’t manage to contain a pained gasp. 

“—conscious,” someone says, but the first half of their phrase whites out. He needs to get a grasp on this. The voice repeats something, and then Tanu’s face takes the place of Coulter. “Dale,” Tanu says, and gets his attention. “Stay conscious for me.”

He wants to say something clever, something other than the words forming on his tongue, the incredibly startling exclamation of  _ For you, _ but he cannot trust his own voice so he merely nods. Tanu seems to understand that he may be past the point of words, if his injury is as severe as it feels. 

“How bad is it?” Coulter asks quietly, and Dale sees Tanu’s face change from concern into solemn gravity. 

“He’ll survive for another few hours if we can’t get him out of here,” Tanu says, and then turns his attention back to Dale, who feels as if his heart has begun to seize. “The hobgoblin cut both of your Achilles’ tendons,” he imparts. “Your legs are incredibly damaged, and you’ll bleed out if not treated within several hours.”

“Tanu,” Dale whispers, and tries to drag the other down. Tanu bends with a concerned expression, but doesn’t resist him. “I can’t walk. You’ll have to leave me.” 

Tanu looks at him, squeezes his hand, and nods in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry, Dale.”

“Nobody’s sorrier than me,” Dale says. “It’s just my luck. Go.” 

And indeed, no one is more sorry to see them go than he is, lying useless on the ground. 

~ 

Dale is tired. He’s known it since last summer, since he was trapped within himself as a lead statue and pretended not to remember any of his confinement in order to keep himself sane. But it’s more than the life-draining exhaustion of lying injured on the floor of the Inverted Tower. He shouldn’t be surprised at being left behind like this again. 

Kendra pushes open the door to the room he’s dying in. He’s dizzy from the pain, nearly slipping. He’s been falling for quite some time. They’re not hurrying. Is he that far beyond repair? 

But behind her—behind her is Warren, restored completely to himself. The dark color has come back into his hair, the natural tan to his skin, the spark of life back in his eyes. Dale’s heart does a little thing he would have characterized as a hiccup. They’re all unharmed. 

Kendra strides to him, gives him a small smile, and then upends a teapot over his legs. A crawling sensation rolls over him as his flesh knits back together. He can’t withhold a gasp or a shudder, but Warren claps him on the shoulder as soon as she steps back and heaves him to his feet. Dale drags him into a hug, hand on the back of Warren’s head, making eye contact with the rest of their group as tears threaten to gather in his eyes. Kendra beams, Vanessa scowls, and even Coulter has a small grin on his face. Tanu has a soft, gentle smile that Dale hasn’t seen in what feels like too long. 

Warren’s arms around him are tight, unyielding. “They told me what you did,” he says quietly. “Kendra and Tanu did. I’m so sorry.”

Dale just grips him harder, closes his eyes. “It was never a chore for me. I just wanted you to get better.” When he opens his eyes, Tanu’s smiling sadly at them. He holds the other man’s gaze, trying to say volumes without knowing what he means. Whatever it is, it seems that Tanu understands. 

“Let’s get back to the house,” Warren says, drawing away. Dale tries to settle back into his own skin. He feels like he could sleep for years. 

~

There’s something about the restoration of his catatonic brother that shuts him down for a while. No one expects it, least of all Dale. But he finds himself staring blankly into space with Hugo hovering over his shoulder. He’s always unsure of how long he’s been zoned out. The first few times, he finds himself shaking it off and continuing to maintain the preserve. He’s not sure if it’s because his purpose is gone, or his reason for being there. 

Dale came to Fablehaven when his brother went catatonic. He’d been a stranger in a strange place, and worked for his lodging and food while simultaneously assuming all responsibility of his brother. He hadn’t belonged on this preserve like so many of the others do. The Sorensen children belong here by birth, and natural aptitude. Tanu, Coulter, and Warren are all Knights of the Dawn, experienced in different aspects of the magical world. And he had done chores. 

It’s on one of these days that he finds himself just inside the yard, looking off at the trees. The Sphinx has come and gone, leaving Vanessa in the Quiet Box, and Dale wishes that made his sleep a little easier. He’s approaching overtired, and wonders if that’s contributing to his tendency of staring into space. 

He’s drifted several times already today. Once in the kitchen, with Ruth trying to get his attention. He had stammered his way out of that one, but both Tanu and Kendra had looked at him strangely. The other times, he had been watching Seth, who had asked him a question and taken several moments to get a response. 

He hears the porch door open and then close, but doesn’t turn around to see who it is as they step down onto the lawn. He’s trying to orient himself, to find where his feet meet the ground again. He’s losing it here. 

From the footsteps, he knows it’s Tanu. He’s spent the entire time since Tanu’s arrival learning those footsteps, learning the way he distributes his weight. The way he breathes, even, although thinking about that leads to flushed memories of the cell and of his own choking gasps. The shape and depth of him, as much as he can gather, the strength evident in his massive shoulders, large hands, solid thighs. 

“Kendra asked me if you were alright,” Tanu says from behind him. Dale tries to get his head back on his shoulders, but is only partially successful. He can speak, but he’s not sure he has the willpower to drag his eyes away from the trees. 

“She’s a perceptive girl,” he says in reply, not sure what else he can offer that will offset what Tanu has to say. 

“She is,” Tanu agrees. “She wanted to know what was wrong.”

“It’s nothing,” Dale says, and the words taste sour in his mouth. He’s not sure why, since he’s speaking the truth. “Really, just a little restless.” 

Tanu moves a little more into his line of sight. “I’m worried about you,” he says. “You’ve been through a lot, and so quickly.” 

“Less than you,” Dale says, because he never went catatonic and he’s not a Knight of the Dawn. “Much less than you.” 

“That’s different,” Tanu says, and from what little of his face Dale can see, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Dale says, and he’s finally starting to feel angry. “Because I don’t know how to handle it. Can’t handle it, apparently.” He sucks in a breath that feels heavy and tight. “I’m not like the rest of you, then.”

“You’re not,” Tanu says, but he sounds strange. “It’s true that you haven’t been in as much action as we have, but I’m glad you haven’t.” 

“Because I can’t handle it,” Dale repeats.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” Tanu counters. “These sort of things—you have to be callous to survive some of the things your brother and I have seen. There’s no room for softness against the things we face. Forgive me if I don’t want you to lose that. It’s not an enviable thing.” Dale says nothing, and Tanu looks at him squarely. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came to figure out what was wrong.” 

“It’s nothing,” Dale says again, knowing every word he says is wrong. 

“You look like you haven’t eaten,” Tanu says. “Or slept, or rested at all. You look ragged, and the bags under your eyes are so dark a shadowcharmer could shade walk using them.” 

“Why does it matter?” Dale asks, even though something inside of him is sinking. He’s not like this, not this angry, not this harsh. “Why do you care?” 

“I care about you,” Tanu says simply, and Dale’s heart flips at the words. “You’re someone I value. And it hurts me to see you like this.” He puts a hand on Dale’s arm, turns him so they face. “What is it? What’s plaguing you?” 

“It’s too many things,” Dale says quietly. “I get stuck inside my head, I get lost. I haven’t slept, not more than two hours in a night since Vanessa. I can’t breathe right all the time, and I’ve had more of those—you called them panic attacks? And I’m just the hired hand. I can’t imagine what everyone else is dealing with, even Kendra and Seth.” 

His voice keeps cracking, and his vision is blurred. Tanu looks mildly alarmed, but schools his expression quickly. “Let’s go inside,” he says. “I’ll get you something for it, and we’ll talk it through. Figure out how we can deal with it together.” 

“Why would you do that for me?” Dale asks, and something strange passes over Tanu’s face again. “I’m just a housekeeper.”

“You’re a backbone,” Tanu tells him quietly. “You’re the strength we didn’t know we needed until it was taken away from us. You’re the tether that allows us to come home.”

~ 

Tanu’s idea of talking things through includes making hot chocolate and bringing it up to one of their rooms. Dale reaches to grab milk from the fridge, but Tanu slides a hand over his wrist and stops him. “Sit down, Dale,” he says with a kind smile. Dale looks at him askance, and then at the hand on his wrist. Tanu doesn’t remove it. 

“This is my—I always do it,” he says, stuttering the words out. Tanu’s hand is cold on his skin, but his eyes are warm. 

“I’ve got it,” Tanu tells him. “Just sit down and take it easy.” The problem is, he doesn’t do well with idleness. So he relinquishes the fridge to Tanu, who gently moves him out of the way. He stands at the corner of the table, fidgeting nervously. 

They remain in silence as Tanu makes the drinks, but it doesn’t feel like a heavy one that Dale has come to dread. There’s something about the peacefulness of it, a calm, quiet assurance, despite the fact that he doesn’t have anything to do. He begins to space out again, only tuning back in when Tanu turns to hand him a mug. 

“My room, or yours?” Tanu asks, and then studies him when Dale flounders. “Mine, then, if you’re alright with that.” There’s red on Dale’s face and he feels it beneath his collar. He stammers out an agreement, and then Tanu ushers him up the stairs. He took the smallest guest room when they arrived, and has remained there even though Vanessa’s room had opened up.

The room itself is furnished sparsely, cluttered only with potion ingredients on the desk and several tomes on the bed. Tanu quickly sweeps those to the side and looks around, as if just now deeming it inadequate. It looks like the room of a nomadic man, and seeing the bareness of it makes Dale’s heart clench. 

“You look like you’re ready to leave,” he says. Tanu just looks at him with that steady gaze. The worry has crept back in. “Are you?” 

Tanu sets his mug down on the desk. “I won’t leave unless it’s dire that I go somewhere else,” he says. He seems to realize that more must be said, to put Dale’s mind at ease. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t intend to leave.” 

Dale sips from his mug instead of answering. There are honest but terrifying words on his tongue, ones that form in the realms of asking him to stay. He has never asked Tanu to stay. Even when he was dying and afraid, he told him to go. What would be the loss if he left now, granted that Dale was in good health? 

“This is good,” Dale says, indicating the drink, and Tanu smiles. 

“Not quite like yours, but satisfactory,” he answers, and then pats the side of the bed. “Sit down.” So Dale does. 

They drink their hot chocolate in steady silence and Dale realizes he’s been bouncing his leg frantically. He stills it, but the absence of motion seems to catch Tanu’s eye. The man sets down his empty mug, and reaches for Dale’s when he finishes. The other man allows him to pry the drink from his fingers, and upon realizing what Tanu wants, apologizes and hands it to him quickly. Tanu sets it down and then returns his gaze to him. 

“So,” he says, and Dale feels like throwing up. Tanu just studies him for a moment. “I think you should tell me what’s going on, the whole of it. I want to help you.” 

“Okay,” Dale says. “I think I’m going to freak out.” 

Tanu startles. “Right now?” 

“Yeah,” Dale says, and the world is shaking around him. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Tanu has him start breathing deeply before it can get out of control, and gives him something to do with his hands. That helps. He’s not good at idleness, and is almost always moving. Tanu is patient, which surprises him. He doesn’t know why. He sits through it all, breathes quietly with Dale, and gets him water. They manage to get past the panic without letting it take over. 

Even after bypassing it, Dale is still exhausted. He’s been tired for too long, and he half-wants to just ask Tanu for a sleeping potion and then lock himself in his room. Just to make it through the night. Or maybe he’ll go out to the cabin and try and find some sleep in a place where there’s been no harm. 

In an effort to move past it, he tells Tanu everything. About being turned into that statue, his body motionless but his mind intact. About being stuck in himself, and how when he emerged he wasn’t able to act exactly the same. About being nothing, the person who was left behind time after time. About waking up in the cell alone, Tanu gone. About bleeding out in that quicksand room, unable to move. About how tired he’s been, every bone weighing a hundred pounds. About how much it takes to get him through the day. About how he’s nothing compared to his brother. About how slowly he’s falling apart. 

At the end of it, he’s trembling, stretched thin. Nearly yawning, although he has enough self possession to keep himself from betraying his exhaustion. He doesn’t do a good enough job. 

Tanu touches his arm gently when he finishes, gets his attention. “You’ve suffered a great deal,” he says. 

“It doesn’t feel like it’s over,” Dale says quietly. “I’m afraid it never will.” 

“Let me ease it,” Tanu says, and Dale nods. Tanu turns to his bag, pulls out a small bottle, and hands it to Dale. “It’s a small amount,” he says, “But it should give you a few hours. I’ll stay with you, in case you need to wake.” 

“I have so much to do,” Dale protests. Tanu frowns. 

“We’ll try it later, then,” he says. “Take it easy for the rest of the day. If I get a free moment, I’ll come help you.” 

Dale nods, and rises to his feet. He turns to leave, but Tanu turns him around gently, and folds him into a hug. His arms circle Dale’s frame with ease, his big hands splayed across Dale’s back. “You are not alone,” he says, and Dale lets himself lean into the hug. “We’re going to make it. I promise.” His words contain nothing else but honestly.

~

He stays in Tanu’s room that night, and has nothing but gentle sleep. 

~ 

It becomes habit, sleeping on a pallet in Tanu’s room, more restful than he’s felt in months. More often than not, he’s under the influence of a sleeping potion. His nightmares have disappeared, and he settles into his skin solidly. He catches Warren flicking his gaze between the two of them several times, but the house continues on with quiet domesticity. Dale feels more present than he has lately, and people have begun to notice. 

He catches Stan throwing him a curious look one day over lunch, but doesn’t comment on it. Stan, however, does. 

“Have you been alright, Dale?” He asks, even though he’s days too late for that question. 

“I have,” Dale says, and it’s true. 

~ 

Weeks later, he wakes at his usual time only to have Tanu stop him as he leaves to get changed. He turns, not sure what to expect. 

“Come here,” Tanu says, and Dale falters. 

“What?” He says, not sure if he heard right. He steps back into the room and closes the door. He’s not sure why he does. 

“Ruth and Stan gave you the day off,” Tanu says. He looks startlingly shy. “To do whatever you’d like.”

Dale stares at him. “Did you—did you ask them for this?” He asks, and Tanu looks down, messing with the covers of his bed. 

“You needed it.” He looks the same in the morning as he does during the day, only a bit rumpled, his hair mussed from sleep. His eyes, however, still hold that gentle sincerity Dale is so fond of. 

He crosses to the bed before he can stop himself, and bends down to grab Tanu in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers, but then he overbalances and finds himself kneeling on the bed, one hand on Tanu’s chest to steady himself. Tanu’s hand slips to his side in additional support. Dale stares down at him with wide eyes. 

“All this time,” he says. “Am I—do I have it right?” Tanu looks startled. 

“What do you mean?” 

Dale bites his lip, suddenly second-guessing himself. Tanu’s eyes follow the motion, and then flick up to Dale’s face. He flushes, and it’s a pretty site to see. 

“You like me, don’t you?” He says, and he doesn’t know where this confidence stems from. Tanu looks away, but his eyes fix on his hand that rests on Dale’s waist. His fingers twitch a little, and Dale feels every movement with acute focus. 

“Dale, don’t start something you can’t continue,” Tanu warns. He lets go, but Dale grabs his hand with the most foresight he’s ever had in his life. 

“I want to continue it,” he says quietly. The world isn’t tugging at his shoulders now, pulling him in every direction. It’s settled back, enough that he’s aware of what he wants. “Tanu, there are very few things that I know I want.” He settles back on his knees, enough that he’s not hovering over Tanu. “If you don’t want it, say so.”

Tanu says nothing, and a small grin breaks over Dale’s face. “All this time,” he says again. It’s wondering, some sort of awe present in his voice. “Did you do this for me? The—the talking, the time—everything.”

“I did most of it because you needed it,” Tanu says. “And I was able to help. I’d do it for any one of my friends who was hurting. But you—the intimacy of it all—that was all because of you.”

“Because of me, huh,” Dale says, and there’s a smile creeping onto his face that he knows is the Burgess smile. The trademark grin that Warren wears for the thrills and the elation. It comes out so rarely these days. The other man matches his gaze, lets a small smile fold onto his own as well. 

“I take it you’re not opposed to the idea?” Tanu asks. Dale grins, and shakes his head. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and Tanu nods, reaching the hand back around his waist, holding him steady as he leans down. Tanu will always hold him steady. 

The kiss is like none he’s ever had. He hasn’t had many, but Tanu is firm and gentle and just exactly the right balance of give and take. It’s not perfect, since few things in Dale’s life are. The angle forces his neck to curl, and the way Tanu has his legs set looks uncomfortable. But it’s worth it. 

Dale draws away and dives back in. He gets a knee under the covers and throws it over Tanu’s lap, sitting himself down securely. Tanu clutches him close and kisses him gently, something sweet and simple but still knee-joltingly forceful. It’s nothing and everything like he expected. He didn’t know he was expecting it until it was better. 

Tanu pulls back eventually, and Dale’s heart leaps to see the smile on his face. If he thought Tanu was radiant before, he’s more certain of it before. The moment, however, is ruined when Dale has to stifle a yawn. Tanu laughs, and uses those big hands to gently peel Dale off of him and slide him onto the bed.

“Sleep now,” he says. “We have all day.” So Dale closes his eyes, squirms underneath Tanu’s arm, and allows himself to rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Please leave kudos and let me know what you think!


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